


Wild Columbine

by veritashopian



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Amnesty, Duck gets his ass kicked, Fluff, Gen, IT HAPPENED WAY FASTER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD, Let Duck be romanced 2k18, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Sword Fighting, TAZ Amnesty, THIS WAS WRITTEN AND POSTED BEFORE EPISODE 19, The Adventure Zone Amnesty - Freeform, and swords, beacon is still the worst cockblocker of all time, but in the meantime, but it’s cool he likes it, gratuitous flower symbolism, holy shit, im waiting for him to be revealed as An Important Character, its gonna happen in every fic I write just you wait, leo tarkesian is a secret badass, please enjoy this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-09-04 22:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16798027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veritashopian/pseuds/veritashopian
Summary: Leo shrugs. “It’s just my old practice weapon from high school. The blade’s pretty old, but I cleaned it up and sharpened it last week.”“Okay, but. Why?”Leo averts his eyes and shuffles his feet. “It’s just been kinda hectic lately, what with the repairs to the store and all. Then I saw you practicing out here and it looked… kinda fun. I thought you might like a, a sparring partner or something.”Duck stares, open mouthed and unable to do anything about it. “You wanted to spar. With me?”





	1. Columbine

**Author's Note:**

> "Red columbine flowers are symbols of love and passion for people we love and those who mean more to us than just friendship"

Duck lands on his back with a pained curse, the wind knocked from his lungs. He’s hard to hurt and damn near impossible to kill, but he’s still working on his landings. In hindsight, they could probably try to do this in a grassy field somewhere and not on the hard ground behind his apartment. But when his mentor only pops in for about three minutes every day, Duck doesn’t really have any room to be too choosy. 

Minerva’s silhouette slides into view over him, partially blocking out the light from the waxing moon. It filters through the translucent blue of her head. Even without defined features, she manages to look completely unimpressed with him. “You have fallen again, Duck Newton.”

Duck groans. He pushes himself up and takes stock of how his body feels. His tailbone is sore, but at least he didn’t skewer himself with Beacon when he went down. He’s fine to keep going, and he says as much as he bounces from foot to foot. “I wanna try that maneuver again. Come on, let’s do it!”

Minerva shakes her head. “Unfortunately, we have only seconds left to us this evening. You should keep practicing on your own, but we will not have another chance to spar together until tomorrow or the day after.”

Duck springs forward anyway. Minerva blocks his two handed attack, sidestepping out of the way and flinging his sword away from her with frustrating ease. He falls on his ass this time, hard. 

Minerva crosses her arms at him. “Duck Newton, I told you to stop!” She doesn’t even sound shocked or angry at all, just. Disappointed. It makes Duck’s stomach turn.

“And I told you I was ready to go again!” Duck snaps. He winces and quickly glances up at his neighbors’ windows- they’re dark, thank God- before lowering his voice. “I mean hell, Minnie. I can’t keep up with you if I only get one or two shots in every night, and the next abomination will be here within a few days. If you really want me to learn all of this, shouldn’t we use every second we have?”

Minerva visibly relaxes, her head tilting in a way that almost looks fond as she gazes down at him. “There are other important aspects of your training to focus on, Duck Newton. You are the chosen one! While your fighting ability will serve you well, it is not as vital as-“ And with no warning at all, Duck blinks and Minerva is gone.

“ _ Ugh. Yet another cryptic line to ponder on until the next meeting. How droll.” _

“Shut the fuck up, Beacon.” Duck lays his weapon down next to him on the ground and falls all the way back with a groan. Damn, but Minerva really laid him out on that last run. Thankfully there’s a ring of thick flower bushes surrounding the common area; no random passers by will see him so physically and mentally down. What could Minerva even be talking about with all of that chosen one talk? One thing’s for sure, he’s too tired to work through it now. He’ll find out tomorrow. Or the day after. 

Fuck, they really need a better system than this.

Duck’s daydreaming screeches to a halt when he hears a familiar sound- the squeaky metal gate to the common area opening on its rusty hinges as someone approaches. Duck only has a second where his instincts scream ‘abomination’ before he rolls over to see a confused looking Leo Tarkesian stepping through the gate and the gap in the bushes.

“Oh, uh. Hey there Mr. Tarkesian.”

Leo lays something on a patio table and walks closer to stand over Duck. “Hey there yourself. You, uh. You okay there Duck?”

Duck clears his throat to cover up the dumb words Beacon tries to get out, surreptitiously slapping his hand over the sword’s mouth to keep him quiet. “Yeah man, I’m good. Just getting uh, getting into character.”

Beacon fucking  _ licks his hand,  _ and Duck muffles his own sound of disgust long enough to wrestle the weapon toward his sheath.

The corner of Leo’s mouth twitches. “For that play you’re working on? I thought you were one of the fighting dudes, not Juliet laying in the tomb.”

Duck finally gets Beacon sheathed and sits up fully. “No, no I am. A fighting dude. I just uh.” He flounders for a better excuse than getting knocked flat by a big spectral lady, literally  _ any other explanation,  _ and comes up blank.  _ Fuck.  _

Leo shakes his head, still smiling, and leans down offer Duck a hand up. “I saw you take that fall, Duck. It’s alright, happens to the best of us.”

Duck looks up at him and sheepishly takes the hand. “Thanks, man. Sorry you had to see uh, all that. I was hoping to make you keep thinking I was some sort of badass or something.”

“Oh, always,” Leo laughs. He pulls Duck to his feet with a surprising strength Duck wouldn’t have guessed at just by looking at the wiry man. And then Duck notices what he couldn’t see before from his angle on the ground. The object that Leo set aside on the table to help Duck? It’s a sword. A straight blade of stainless steel, well-kept and looking like it was recently polished.

Duck’s hand automatically curls around Beacon’s hilt. “Whatcha got over there?” He asks, trying too hard for casual. 

The storekeeper glances back at the table and shrugs. “Ah, nothing much. It’s just my old practice weapon from high school. The blade’s pretty old, but I cleaned it up and sharpened it last week.”

“Okay, but. Why?”

Leo averts his eyes and shuffles his feet. “It’s just been kinda hectic lately, what with the repairs to the store and all. Then I saw you practicing out here and it looked… kinda fun. I thought you might like a, a sparring partner or something.”

Duck stares, open mouthed and unable to do anything about it. “ _ You _ wanted to spar. With  _ me _ ?”

“Sorry,” Leo says quickly. “It was dumb of me, I shouldn’t have like, assumed. You don’t need me crashing your practice like this, what was I thinking? I’ll- I’ll get out of your hair.” 

Duck is so dumbstruck by all of this that he lets Leo gather his sword and get all the way to the small gate before he manages to splutter out a “Hey, wait a minute!”

Leo turns sadly, one hand on the latch. “Seriously Duck, it’s okay. I won’t bother you about it anymore. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you could just forget about me making an ass of myself.”

“Whoa now partner,” Duck says. “You didn’t make an ass of yourself man, I did. I didn’t- Christ, I’m not  _ mad,  _ Leo. You just caught me off guard. If you still wanna swing the ol’ steel around sometime and help me run through some stuff, I’d be mighty grateful. My uh, my teacher has a pretty crazy commute so I’d love to have someone to train with while she’s not around.”

“You mean it?” Leo says, and if Duck hadn’t before he would now. He’s a grown man damn it, and a monster hunter to boot. The hope and glee in Leo’s voice shouldn’t make him go so soft.

“I mean it. Hell, I’ve still got some fight left in me before I turn in for the night. Why don’t you show me what you’ve got? I might even go easy on you.”

Leo scoffs, but he’s obviously perked up at the thought of a challenge. “Hey, now. You might have good form, but I did just see you fall over like, twice when you didn’t even have anyone to fight. I think I can probably hold my own without you pulling your punches, so to speak.”

_ Probably not _ , Duck thinks quietly. “Well either way, we’re burning moonlight.” He draws Beacon, making sure the blade stays looking distinctly un-whiplike, and takes a defensive stance against Leo. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Leo grins, and attacks.

Duck blocks the first swing on pure instinct, letting his muscle memory guide Beacon into position to absorb the shock of the blow. It rocks his weight back onto his heels, but Duck holds his stance.

Leo gives an appreciative hum. “You’re fast.”

“Maybe you’re just slow,” Duck shoots back. He disengages and spins, switching Beacon to one hand and stepping forward with a thrust.

He does go easy at first, just because- well, he’s a damn monster hunter and Leo runs a general store in West Virginia. But Leo was right. As they trade blows he matches Duck step for step. He eventually jumps to the side to dodge a strike and puts some distance between them in a skillful display of speed and agility. “Still think I’m slow?” 

Duck shakes his head. He’s stopped goofing around now, and watches Leo’s movements with all of his focus. “No, you’ve convinced me. Still gonna kick your ass, though.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Sure,” Duck says with confidence. “I win, you buy me dinner at Wolf Ember Grille. I’ll warn you though, I can put away that French onion soup like you wouldn’t believe.”

Leo nods, making a show of thinking it over. “I think I can manage that, yeah.”

“Alright, game on.” Duck moves forward slowly, step by step so he can try and predict Leo’s next move. The less space between them, the fewer options he’ll have. 

“Don’t you want to know what I get if I win?” Leo asks. He doesn’t look particularly bothered by Duck closing in on him. 

“Sorry, I prefer not to linger on impossibilities.”

Leo raises an eyebrow. His left foot takes a step back and Duck’s eyes snap to the movement as Leo says, “Well, you can't beat what you can’t catch.” 

Duck takes that as his cue. He raises Beacon and charges, ready to give chase. 

The thing is though, Leo doesn’t run away. He darts suddenly to the side and under the new hole in Duck’s guard, popping up behind him with his sword drawn. Before Duck can even turn around, the flat metal of Leo’s sword slides over his shoulder and presses up against his throat. 

Duck freezes. 

“This is the part where you tap out,” Leo says calmly. 

There’s too much adrenaline running through Duck to respond immediately, and when he does the first thing out of his mouth is a choked off, panicked laugh. “Holy shit, yeah. Uncle or whatever Leo, I  _ give _ .”

And just like that, he’s loose. Leo withdraws his sword and Duck lowers his, turning to his neighbor with amazement. Leo isn’t even winded, cool as a cucumber like he didn’t just put a sword to Duck’s neck. “I win,” he says with a delighted grin. 

“Yeah, no doubt.  _ Fuck,  _ Leo!” Duck staggers over to the patio chairs and drops himself into one, still laughing. “I’m not gonna lie, you scared the absolute shit outta me for a second there. It’s been a hot minute since anyone’s gotten past me like that.” 

He’s used to getting his ass kicked by Minerva, but that’s different. She’s a six foot tall glowing spirit guide or something, of  _ course  _ she’s amazing. The juxtaposition of his kindly neighbor with that level of combat skill is freaking his whole damn bean. To make things worse, Beacon starts acting up again and Duck has to split what little attention he has left to make him shut up. 

Leo’s smile fades a little. “Duck? You okay?”

“Okay?” Duck says when he can breathe again. “Hell yeah I’m okay, man! You just- with the feint, you- man, what the  _ fuck!  _ You were awesome!” He pulls out another chair next to his and pats it. “You gotta tell me where you learned to do that.”

“Oh!” Leo laughs, relieved. He takes his seat and balances his sword across his legs. “Yeah, I uh. I was always pretty good with stuff like that. Misdirection, you know? You gotta make people think a certain way about you so you can blindside ‘em with what you’re really about.”

“Damn straight,” Duck agrees. “You really had me, too. I was so sure you were gonna go all cat and mouse on me that I didn’t even think you were about to attack.”

“Speaking of cats,” Leo says. “I think this one’s caught the canary, if you’ll pardon me mixing metaphors. I won our little wager, didn’t I?”

Duck nods. “By a landslide. That’ll teach me to count my chickens, huh? But fair’s fair- what’s your prize?”

Leo hums. He leans back into a pensive pose, tapping a finger to his chin as he thinks. “Hmm, I dunno yet. How about I treat you to some of that soup you like so much and we can talk more about it then.”

“What? But that’s what I was supposed to get if I won,” Duck protests. He’s not gonna complain, obviously, but it doesn’t feel fair. “I’m not gonna be a sore loser about it Leo, you beat me fair and square. You don’t have to let me win to save my pride or whatever.”

“I would never,” Leo assures him, leveling him with an unreadable look. “Do- did you not actually want to? Have dinner with me?”

Something about his tone makes Duck swallow his tongue. He splutters for a minute, sure his face is bright red at this point. “Nah, of course I do! You’re- this was real fun. I’m totally down for it. For dinner. With me- and you!”

Leo laughs again, trailing into a contented sigh as he stands and stretches. “Well that’s good to hear. How’s Sunday for you?”

“Sunday’s good,” says Duck. He’s probably reading too much into this, but-

“It's a date then,” Leo says breezily, and okay. Maybe Duck is reading into this just enough. But there’s absolutely zero percent chance of him tackling that with any sort of tact right now, so Duck does what he does best and Ignores the Weird Shit. For now. 

“It’s a date,” he echoes. “And hey, good fucking fight man. We gotta do this more often.”

Leo looks extremely pleased with that. “Of course, Duck. Any time. I’m gonna turn in now though, it’s an early day tomorrow. You gonna stay out here for a while?”

“Yeah, gotta make sure I don’t have some sort of delayed fainting reaction to my neighbor trying to kill me.”

Leo snorts. “Well, take care of yourself then. You know where to find me if you need me. Goodnight!”

“Night.” 

Duck waves and watches Leo walk back to his apartment, sword slung casually over his shoulder. In the dark and quiet of the night he can hear Leo’s keys. And after a few long moments, the soft click as he locks the door behind him. 

Well. Now he has an inkling of why Leo never bothered locking up before Duck asked him to. 

Beacon squirms and Duck suddenly realizes he’s been squeezing his hilt over the mouth a little harder than is probably comfortable. He lifts his hand contritely. “Sorry, Beacon. You good?”

_ “I am absolutely humiliated, Duck Newton! My wielder, defeated by a mere mortal. It is a disgrace that I suffer in silence.” _

“Hey, that ‘mere mortal’ is my friend,” Duck chides him. “And I wouldn’t have to keep you silent if you’d stop trying to talk around normal people. Do you  _ want  _ to get us caught?”

Beacon sticks his tongue out at him. “ _ Your alleged friend is as terrible as you are. I refuse to be reduced to the level of a common sword. Did you see that tawdry thing? Not so much as a single magical curse. And now I have cheap metal polish on my blade! Duck Newton, I demand retribution!” _

Duck groans. “Alright. Let’s go clean you off and I’ll let you pick where you sleep tonight.”

_ “My choice is-“ _

“Within reason,” Duck clarifies.

“ _... I want to have my blanket on the table by the window.” _

Duck smothers a laugh. Even the most obnoxious of swords can be cute sometimes. “Sure thing, buddy. Let’s get you ready for bed.”

He climbs the stairs to the apartment with no rush. His neighbors’ windows are all dark now, even Leo’s, but the moon is bright enough for him to walk safely. It isn’t, however, bright enough for him to immediately identify the object sitting on his doormat. Duck squints and sheathes Beacon so he can squat down and examine it. 

There are actually two objects, one short and round and the other long and thin. Duck picks up both in one hand and fumbles his keys with the other, shouldering through his door to turn on the lights. 

The long, thin object is a flower. It’s a single blossom of red columbine, a flower he knows is native to West Virginia. They grow all around the gravel in the common area in the spring, but Duck hasn’t seen any yet this season. This very well may be the first bloom of the year, and Duck is no flower linguist but that is categorically romantic. 

He absolutely does not raise the flower to his nose and inhale, because any forest ranger worth his salt knows that columbine doesn’t have a scent. Instead, he goes to the kitchen and finds an old mug to put some water in. Only after he puts his gift on the windowsill does he look at the second item.

There’s a note there, he sees now, in Leo’s familiar handwriting. It’s stuck to the lid of some sort of metal tin, and Duck smiles unconsciously as he reads. 

**_Duck,_ **

**_Got a lot of this stuff in a couple weeks ago and figured you could use it. I hear it’s pretty good for flexible blades. You can let me know how it treats you when I see you this weekend._ **

**_-Leo_ **

Peeling back the note, Duck is unsurprised to see Beacon’s favored brand of metal polish. The kind that Duck bought exactly once, years ago before he abandoned his ‘chosen one’ destiny and pawned Beacon off on Ned. Which means that Leo somehow remembered that far back and-

“Christ almighty,” Duck breathes. He sinks into one of the two chairs at his kitchen table because he suddenly can’t deal with this. “That’s not allowed to be  _ cute!” _

But it is, and Duck is hopelessly charmed. The reminder about their upcoming dinner date isn’t doing anything to counteract that, either. 

There is one thing that catches his eye when he rereads the note for the third or tenth time, though. People don’t usually use the word  _ flexible  _ to describe a straight bladed, two handed sword. Especially not people who actually know their shit. Not unless they actually observe that sword being flexible by any definition of the word. 

Duck slowly lowers his head to the table. “Fuck.”


	2. Jonquil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duck has some thinking to do, but who can he talk to about the crazy thing that happened last night?

Duck’s alarm jerks him awake at 6:45, when the first rays of light outline the peak of Mt. Kepler. He groans, burrowing his face against his pillow. It’s too early to be thinking, he decides, so he doesn’t. He slaps his alarm clock to make it shut up and trudges to the bathroom on autopilot. There’s no need for conscious thought through his Saturday morning routine, except to convince himself to do the exercises he’s always putting off.

He bought a sort-of nice yoga mat after Minerva started showing up again, a blue foam number that rolls up under his bed. Duck pulls it out and starts his stretches, breathing through the movements that are both familiar and so out of practice. The exercise loosens his muscles and pulls a kink out of his neck where he slept on it wrong, and he sighs in content. On to the next stretch, this one for his hips. He lays on his back and lifts his legs, holding the pose for as long as he can before gently lowering them back to the mat.

Once the blood starts flowing, his brain wakes the rest of the way up and the events of the previous night come rushing back to him with full force. For a second he hopes that maybe it was just one of his weird visions, but he knows it wasn’t. It’s too vivid, too real, too fresh in his mind to be something out of his dreams.

Duck shakes his head and turns over to do his pushups.

When the clock reads 7:15, Duck puts the mat away. He showers, brushes his teeth, tugs a comb through his hair and gets dressed while managing to distract himself from what he really should be thinking about.

He walks into the living room with shoes in hand and sets them by the door, not ready to make a lot of noise in the apartment just yet. Beacon is still asleep, wrapped in a blanket and facing the window. These quiet moments before the sun rises are the only ones when they really coexist in peace, and Duck isn’t about to ruin it by waking him up. He moves through his kitchen silently, carefully opening and closing the fridge and his cabinets.

The percolator is loud in the early quiet, but it’s a comforting sound because it means coffee will soon be at hand. Duck closes his eyes and breathes in the smell of the steaming brew. He pours one cup for himself and saves the rest in a thermos to take with him when he leaves.

He sits at his kitchen table with his coffee mug and a bowl of Wildberry Fruit Loops. The flower on his windowsill burns red in the first light of day.

“Okay,” Duck tells himself. “So Leo maybe knows that Beacon is a weird bendy sword. That’s fine. He probably just thinks it’s a prop sword, one of those plastic doodads they use in theater.”

Except they fought last night, steel against steel. Duck might not have won, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t fight hard. There’s no passing Beacon off as a toy now. And Leo wouldn’t give Duck metal polish for a plastic blade anyway.

Duck finishes his cereal. He rinses the bowl and leaves it in the sink. He stands there for a few minutes, just looking at the sprig of columbine in the mug.

He thinks over what he knows about Leo Tarkesian. About how he notices when people don’t stop by the store, how he takes it upon himself to check up on them. How his first concern after almost getting crushed to death was making sure everyone else was safe. How he offers solid advice and praise in equal measure, patient and encouraging.

Most of all, Duck thinks about how Leo saw his neighbor training with a cursed sword and kept quiet about it without being asked.

He grabs his coat from where he hung it on the back of a chair and pulls out his keys. He already knows what _he_ wants to do about this situation, but it isn’t entirely his call.

Duck gets in the van and drives toward the ranger station. Figuring it out will have to wait until he’s done with work.

The Monongahela is blossoming under the tender care of spring. Duck drives along the Greenbrier River deeper into the woods and catalogues the flora he passes with a practiced eye. He feels a bittersweet twang in his chest when he sees the sarvis already in bloom. Just like the columbine, it’s a sign of an early spring. He welcomes the idea of warm weather after the winter they’ve had, but it’s not healthy for the forest. Hell, at this rate the Juneberries are going to ripen in May. Damn climate change. Anyone who tries to say it isn’t happening has clearly never even _looked_ at a tree.

Juno’s vehicle is already parked outside when Duck arrives, and he sees her turning the lights on inside the station. She’s always been a good listener. Maybe…

“Got your coffee,” he says in greeting as he walks in the door.

“Donuts are on your desk,” she responds from somewhere in another room.

Duck gives a noncommittal noise of gratitude and grabs one on his way to set the thermos on Juno’s desk. Chocolate iced with sprinkles, the only thing that makes early mornings worth it. If Krispy Kreme ever left Kepler, Duck thinks he’d commit murder. “I’ll get ‘em next time,” he says, mouth full.

“Sure you will.” Juno finally joins him, taking a long pull of coffee from the thermos and slamming it down. “Eat up, we’ve already got a call about some graffiti up near the RV park.”

Duck pauses. “Not from Eastwood?”

“Yes from Eastwood, just a few minutes before you walked in. I swear to God Duck, these kids are going to be the death of- Duck, what are you doing?”

Duck has already stuffed the last of his donut in his mouth and started running for the door. He restarts the car and leans on the horn. “Come on, come on! We gotta go now!”

Juno looks confused but she goes along with him. She jogs down the porch steps and vaults up into the passenger seat mere seconds before Duck throws the vehicle into reverse and whips out of the parking space.

“Jesus!” Juno exclaims. She fumbles her seatbelt buckle and jams it home in a panic. “Duck, slow the hell down! You can’t catch those gremlins, they’re far gone by now.”

 _Not if they haven’t started yet,_ Duck thinks to himself. “Yeah, but maybe if we grab a brush we can wash away the worst of it before it dries!”

Juno gives him a long look, but slowly nods. “Alright then, Duck. Let’s get to it.”

Duck shifts gears and guns it.

They pull up at Eastwood RV Park in record time, breaking about six regulations on their way but not really giving a shit. Juno has one hand on her buckle before they even park, pointing with her other hand to an opening in the tree line. “There!”

Duck looks and sure enough, he sees two people wearing very familiar jackets spin around at the sound of the truck screaming into the park. They drop the cans in their hands and hop onto a couple of dirt bikes, speeding off into the trees.

“Duck, stop!”

Jumping in his seat, Duck slams his foot on the brake. The truck lurches to a stop just before ramming into a tree, sending an unbuckled Juno’s head careening for the dashboard. Duck flings out an arm and catches her across the chest before she can bash her head in.

They sit there for a few seconds, breathing heavily and staring straight ahead. Then Duck throws the truck into park and cuts the engine. “Shit. Fucking _hell._ Y’alright there Juno?”

His partner nods, shaking off the shock. “Yeah, I’m in one piece. My own fault for not keeping my damn seatbelt on when you’re behind the wheel, ya maniac.”

“Hey, we stopped them didn’t we?”

Juno frowns. “Yeah, and that’s… weird.” She toes open the door of the truck on hops down, immediately walking toward the spot the two vandals had been standing in. “From the way my caller was talking, I figured those kids would have finished and been gone by now. It’s almost like he knew it would happen before it did…”

“What?” Duck says, far too loudly. He glances across the clearing, where he could see Indrid’s Winnebago parked. “That- you mean like a psychic or something? Why would you think that?”

“No, you weirdo, I mean like somebody _in the Hornets_ tipped us off.” Juno bent down and picked up a can of yellow spray paint. She flashed a piece of paper at Duck, a flyer with the logo on it and the date for some stunt event. “Those punks are up to no good for the most part, but it looks like maybe one of them at least has the sense to know how bad an idea it is to advertise on a fuckin’ tree. They must have called as soon as their buddies set out.”

Then she blinks and looks at Duck with an unreadable expression. “Unless you think a psychic environmental activist in Kepler is more likely?”

Duck sweats. Way to nick himself with Ockham's razor. “Nah, you uh. I like your idea better.”

Juno holds his gaze long enough to make him uncomfortable, but then she just shrugs and goes to pick up the rest of the cans. Duck jumps forward to help her. “Either way, I guess it’s a good thing you decided to fly us out here so quick. I wish we could have caught ‘em, but I take saving these trees as a victory.”

“Amen,” Duck agrees. His mind is still whirling to think of a story, distract Juno from the fact that he won’t fucking shut up about psychics. “Hey, y’know, I’ve got a buddy up at Amnesty Lodge who used to run with those Hornets when they were still decent enough- maybe he can ask around and find out more.”

“Or at the very least, give them a friendly warning from us about this shit,” Juno grumbles in a way that makes Duck certain that the Hornets, no matter their history with Jake Coolice, would rather get that message from him than from Juno.

They load the cans into the bed of the truck and hop back up- “I’ll drive us back,” Juno insists just a little too hard- and as they head back out of Eastwood, Duck swears he sees a shadow move behind a curtain.

“Don’t you think, Duck?”

Duck jumps in his seat, turning to Juno with no idea what she just asked him. “Uh, yeah! Sure, I guess.”

Juno rolls her eyes. “Someday you’re gonna say that and you’re not gonna be able to prove I didn’t just ask you for every dollar in your wallet.”

“It’s not much, I think I’ll live.” Duck dips his head in apology. “Sorry, I was thinking. What was that?”

“Just wond’rin’ if we have to write a report on this. I mean, nothing actually happened, but it nearly did and we’ve confiscated evidence of it. I think it should be fine if your lodge pal can tell the Hornets to cool it.” Juno’s lips twitch in a smile. “And besides, we can’t send _all_ of them to forest jail.”

Duck snickers. _Forest jail_. It’s what they should expect for explaining their jobs as ‘tree police’ half the time, but seriously. And then-

Then Duck remembers the last person who asked him if there was a forest jail. The same person who made the lieutenant of the Hornets nearly wet his pants from fear.

Duck smiles, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t bother with a report, Juno. I’d _bet_ every cent I own that my friend’s got this one in the bag.”

Juno breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank God. I wasn’t looking forward to paperwork at eight in the morning.”

Eight? Duck checks the clock on the dashboard and shit, yeah, it really is still that early. “Damn,” he says. “We’ve only been gone ten minutes.”

“No one to blame for that but you, Speed Racer,” Juno jokes.

”There are worse ways to overcompensate,” Duck protests in the face of her laughter. He’s already been humiliated in front of Leo, and Juno already knows how much a dweeb he is, but it’s the principle of the thing.

“Duck, the hell are you even talking about?” Juno asks, bewildered.

Duck clams up, the worst possible thing for him to do in this situation. This is the nightmare scenario.

“Oh no,” Juno grins. “You got all quiet on me there, Duck. Let something slip you didn’t mean to?”

“Juno-“

“Would that something have anything to do with a some _one?”_

“Take me now,” Duck grumbles into his hands.

“Oh my _God!”_ Juno glances at Duck with a sadistically gleeful expression. “That what you said before bonin’ down, lover boy? _”_

“Juno Divine, I did not bone last night!”

“ _How dare you, Detective Diaz?”_ Juno mocks him in a deep voice before bursting into giggles. “Holy shit, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me everything the minute you walked into the station!”

“There was a call as soon as I got there!” Duck glares at her, although it’s not as effective due to the fantastic reference she made and the fact that he’s now hearing that entire scene in his head and trying not to laugh along with her.

“And I told you about Janice while we were in the middle of putting out a forest fire! We give each other deets, Duck, it’s what we do! I’ve been betrayed!”

Duck snorts a laugh and averts his eyes. “Look, I’m telling the truth here. If I did actually hook up with anyone, you’d be the first to know. It’s not- it’s not like that, honest. I’m just having dinner with someone, okay?”

At Juno’s prompting noise, Duck fumbles through an explanation without getting too detailed. “So I was uh, working out a little out back of my apartment and L- this guy passed by and offered to spot. And we uh, we lifted weights- shit I don’t have weights- anyway we worked out and I bet him I’d beat him and I lost, so now he’s treating me to soup.”

Juno raises an eyebrow but keeps her eyes on the road. “You lost the bet and he’s still buying you your favorite food in the world? What the hell?”

“That’s what I said!” Duck exclaims. “But it gets _weirder,_ June. He left me a flower on my doorstep. _Columbine.”_

“Oh my _God!_ “ Juno takes a turn a little sharper than necessary to pull into their parking spot at the station. “What color?” she demands as soon as they park, looking at Duck expectantly.

“Uh, red? Why?”

“Duck!” Juno beams at him. “Red columbine is _really_ fuckin’ romantic! He’s _into you!_ ”

Her words drive Duck’s breath from his lungs like a gut punch and he feels his cheeks burning. “What? Shut up, that’s fake. There’s no way Leo would even _know_ that.”

“No, look I- get inside, I’ll show you!”

Duck quickly unbuckles and follows Juno into the station, all talk of vandals and incident reports a million miles from both of their heads as Juno pulls a book out of her bottom desk drawer. As she lays it on top and opens it, Duck instantly recognizes from the quick glimpse he gets of the huge daffodil on the cover. It’s a field guide of flora in the Monongahela.

“I’m surprised you don’t know all this,” Juno continues as she scans through the book. Colored illustrations flash by on each page as she searches intently. “But I guess you’re more of a tree expert than a flower- there!” She slams her palms flat on the open book and turns it so Duck can see.

There’s a whole page on Columbine flowers, with all of their various colors, meanings, and best viewing times. But the one that’s making Juno grin at him so wide is the small section on red columbine.

“Red columbine flowers are symbols of love and passion for people we love and those who mean more to us than just friendship,” Duck reads out loud, voice rising as the sentence goes on until it ends on a squeak. He pulls his hat from his head and hides his face in it. “ _Fuuuuuck._ Tell me this ain’t happening, Juno. _”_

Juno shakes her head with a world-weary sigh. “Oh Duck, it’s been happening. That man’s been gone on you and you had no idea.”

Duck snaps his head back up. “What?”

“It’s so obvious! He asks about you every time I see him, hardly ever shuts up about how much he ‘admires your dedication to the service’ yada yada.” Juno continues on nonchalantly as if she hasn’t just knocked Duck on his proverbial ass. “If you found some random groceries at your door, I’d say that was his doing too. He obviously cares about you enough to check in on you and watch your back. How did you not _see_ it?”

“Well he probably- I mean that’s just neighborly, ain’t it?” Duck splutters. Sure, Leo has been really complimentary of him and more than generous and his eyes did light up that one time he called Duck a hero and-

“Duck,” Juno says slowly. “There’s being neighborly and then there’s being super duper gay. I’d hope you could tell the difference.”

Now that they’re talking, he feels silly for worrying earlier. Juno didn’t even bat an eye when he mentioned Leo, and Duck regrets ever thinking that she’d judge him like that.

Teasing him for being oblivious, however? That’s gonna be a lifelong thing now forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jonquil or daffodils symbolize fondness, respect and the feeling that the sun shines the brightest when you're with the recipient. They also convey faith, forgiveness and forthrightness -- all good messages from one sibling to another.

**Author's Note:**

> I might continue this? It started off as more Minerva-centric, and I wanted to close the circle with her approving of Duck’s friendship and the comraderie of battle blah blah blah- thoughts? Thanks for reading!
> 
> Edit: by popular demand, I will continue to flesh this out and see where it takes us! In the meantime, I'm about to bury myself in research on flower symbolism
> 
> 12/6/18 Edit: WELL GRIFFIN EXPLODED THIS FIC IN LESS THAN 3 MINUTES, GUESS I’LL JUST GO FUCK MYSELF THEN
> 
> I knew he was gonna be important and I knew he’d have a sword, but I didn’t think it’d be THIS DAMN SOON!!!! Hey man what the FUCK!


End file.
